


silver/screaming/stay

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Death, Suicide, Violence, What-If, same ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: What if Judas stayed until the crucifixion?





	silver/screaming/stay

You don't know why you stay. You don't know why you're still _alive_ , why the rope around your waist has not yet hung you. Perhaps it is because you are frozen, pressed and jostled by the crowd, watching Jesus and Pilate and the sweat on both of their faces, listening less to the screaming crowd and more to the sound of silver at your belt, less to Pilate's cries (his voice is breaking, like yours did, neither of you want to do this, neither of you have it in you to damn him with a straight face) and more to the broken sounds Jesus is making, blood on his lips.

They flog him, 39 cracks of the whip punctuated by screams and Pilate's flinching voice, and you don't even register how loudly you are howling _no_ until two pairs of eyes lock onto you. Mary, shouting louder than you, hands beating on the shoulders of the people around her (screaming ceaselessly _crucify crucify crucify_ ) and Jesus, beaten to the point of pleading (you can see his mouth moving, prayers, perhaps, to the God that he thinks is listening) staring at you, you, _you_ , and, impossibly, _smiling_.

You should flee. You should _die_. The rope itches against your skin, your neck itches where it will rest, your hands itch to grasp it, use it. Hang yourself here, in front of him, let him see what he's made of you.

You should, you should. You follow the crowd, blank-eyed and silent, while Jesus is dragged to the base of the hill, watch (someone is screaming, almost drowned out by the crowd, and it might be Mary, and it might be you) as the cross is placed on his back, as he drags it upward to where he will be crucified.

 

The silver sings betrayal at your belt.

 

You flee when the ugly procession reaches the top of the hill, flee across the sand, stumbling and gasping and screaming blasphemy to the sky, to the God that you know isn't listening. You scatter silver in your wake, thirty hollow clatters and then just your echoing footsteps.

The rope stops itching the moment you wind it around the tree. Someone is still screaming. You think it is you. No one would have followed to see a betrayer die. (Jesus would have, but he is dying too.)

Someone says your name. You don't open your eyes, and then you _can't_.


End file.
